


Wine for all, and all for wine!

by kittenmesut



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Comedy, I AM SORRY, I repeat, M/M, drunk mannschaft, i couldnt add everybody, i love done mesut too, i love miro, im sorry if it sucks, its stupid, just imagine everyone is there, poldi has the best ideas tho, the pairing are just a little thing here, this is just for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:03:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2132928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmesut/pseuds/kittenmesut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“[..] We’re hosting a party. With all the team, even those who didn’t make it to Brazil,” and he looks so goddamn proud of himself Bastian wants to kiss him but he lets him go on, “and it’s gonna be a costume party! Aha!”</p><p>And Lukas isn’t exactly famous for having good ideas, but this one? This one can turn out to be the greatest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine for all, and all for wine!

“It’s been a month now. Can you believe it?” Lukas asks, burying his face in Bastian’s neck, not minding the sand poking holes in his skin.

“No more than I did that night to be honest,” the other answers, eyes looking far off into the night sky of Ibiza, where they’re currently celebrating Bastian’s 30th birthday alone on a private beach, “it’s like we never went there, never played, not yet at least. I have memories, good ones, but they feel like a dream?” And Lukas nods, because he gets what Bastian is saying, he knows very well that feeling of emptiness that should have been replaced by a Cup – the most important one – but it sits still in his stomach and makes him miss a lot of things: Brazil, the guys, the atmosphere, even Jogi.

He laces his fingers with Bastian’s and kisses the back of his hand, “We should do something,” he says, a glint of mischief clouding his eyes for a moment and Bastian is scared, Lukas is a great guy but his ideas, well, let’s just remember how he almost set Campo Bahía on fire because he wanted to _‘show their guests the real German-ness’_.

“What is that perverse mind of yours up to now?” Bastian laughs and Lukas loses himself in that sound for a moment, “Let me think,” and he starts stroking his chin like the evil guy of every Disney movie and Bastian shouldn’t find him cute, but he does.

The ocean is calm and there’s a chill breeze and everything feels so relaxing that Bastian almost falls asleep in the two minutes of silence that come before the “I FOUND THE PERFECT IDEA!” that Lukas shouts into his ear, “What is it?” Bastian asks, curious and more than a bit scared, “How would you feel about dressing up for me?” Lukas is full-on smirking now and Bastian is confused, “Didn’t we call it quit after that time you made me dress like a maid and Louis got home sooner than we thought and we had to explain why Uncle Bastian was in drag?” (Lukas still laughs at his son’s only reaction after half an hour of awkward explanations: “You should keep it by the way. It makes you look good, uncle!” That kid.)

“Shut up, idiot. We’re hosting a party. With all the team, even those who didn’t make it to Brazil,” and he looks so goddamn proud of himself Bastian wants to kiss him but he lets him go on, “and it’s gonna be a costume party! Aha!”

And Lukas isn’t exactly famous for having good ideas, but this one? This one can turn out to be the greatest.

 

_The almighty Thor and his beloved enemy Lokas_

_are happy to invite you at the Lokas Poldison Mansion on Saturday_

_to celebrate our glorious Brazilian victory!_

_You must dress up or otherwise you won’t be let in._

_(P.S. Yes Philip Lahm, you too)_

//

“Do you think Lukas—err I mean Lokas loves Brazil more than he loves me, dear Captain Jack Khedira?” Bastian asks, swaying his plastic hammer in the air.

Sami strokes his braided beard and starts exaggeratedly weaving his arms in the air, “Well well well, if I am to be honest I think he just loves you differently? Unless he has a kink where he marries Brazil and makes sweet love to Brazil, even though I guess you can see the inherent problem here, in that case I could picture him loving Brazil more than you, but it’s highly improbable. Savvy?”

“No, not really.”

//

“What the fuck Thomas? Cinderella?” Mario asks, eying the sparkling light blue dress his lover is showing. With coordinated shoes on. Football boots, actually.

“You told me to match your Prince Charming, Mario!” And he keeps flattening the dress, that makes his collarbones look very nice and Mario likes it. A lot.

“...”

“What? You don’t like my gown? Doesn’t this tiara look good on me?”

“You look hot as fuck, let’s go find a room.”

“Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!”

//

“Do you know what I am, Mesut?”

“Uhm, I don’t get it Manu, you’ve just put brown clothes on..” Mesut is already done with this party and he’s been here for half an hour. Yay. He has been looking for alcool for the past 10 minutes and no, he doesn’t really get what Manuel wanted to achieve with a brown button-up, brown dress pants and brown boots, and why can’t he find the goddamn alcool.

“I am a jar of NEUTELLA! Do you get it? _Neu_ – tella!” Manuel says, revealing a sign he had been hiding behind his back that says “NEUTELLA. TASTE ME, I’M SWEET”. Which.

“Oh my god.. I need alcool. Now.”

“Why is the rum always gone?”

“Shut up, Sami.”

//

“But why is Mario Gӧtze wearing his old Dortmund kit?” Miro asks to no one in particular, eyeing the back of the guy now busy pouring himself a drink at the long table in the corner, “and why is he blonde?” He fixes his plastic vampire teeth, covering his hands in fake blood. Not that he minds that much, it’ll give him that Edward Cullen kind of look he was aiming for. Who says that Dracula has to be always old? He sure as fuck isn’t old. He _isn’t_.

“Because he is stupid,” somebody says from behind him.

“Yeah I know right? It’ll break poor Marco’s heart,” and he turns in the direction of the speaker, “that poor bo—Mario??” He finds himself facing no other than Mario himself, wearing another Dortmund kit, but a number 11, Marco’s.

“Yeah that poor boy Marco is an asshole and he didn’t want to put my Bayern jersey on because, quote unquote, ‘I don’t want to catch any disease’. So I said ‘Yeah, let’s put on our National Team kits then’ and he got angry because how dared I say something like that when he was still sad about the whole thing,” he stops a moment to catch his breath before dying from lack of oxygen, “so being the awesome boyfriend I am, I said ‘okay let’s be the Dortmund duo all over again, but you owe me sex shower’. But sorry about this Miro, I’m supposed to be him so I’ll get back into the role.”

“What the fuck?” Miro was joking. He is old. He _feels_ old.

“Yeah bro, peace and love. Take care. Believe,” Mario-Marco says, throwing the peace sign with both his hands, while Marco-Mario approaches them with two glasses full of some red stuff. Probably wine. Ew. Weren’t they supposed to drink only beer?

“It’s me, Mario! Have faith Miro!” and he turns to face his boyfriend, passing him the glass, “c’mon bro, let’s take a totally platonic selfie and hashtag it part of Gӧtze on Insta!! Fun times!”

“I came here to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.” And Miro is honest to fucking God happy he left this bunch of idiots. Because.

//

“Hey Toni, do you think Lokas loves Brazil—wait who are you supposed to be again?”

Toni points to the crown on his head, “Joffrey Baratheon? King of the Seven Kingdoms?” And when Bastian keeps looking at him like he’s suddenly speaking French, he adds, “I do not accept this! I am the king! Kneel! Or I’ll chop off your head and put it on a spear to carry around!”

“I kneel only for Lukas, sorry. And I just wanted to ask you if you think—”

“I DON’T CARE! I AM JOFFREY BARATHEON, KING OF THE—”

“And I am Thor Odinson and if you don’t stop shouting in my face I’ll shove this plastic hammer so far up your ass you’ll shit thunders for years!”

“Yeah Bastian calm down, I was joking..”

“Good. I was saying, do you think Lokas loves Brazil more than he loves me?”

//

“Guys where’s Phil?” Lukas wonders, looking around the room. He is worried their (former, ugh) captain won’t show up because it’s Phil and Phil is too elegant and classy to do stupid things like dressing-up. Or so he says.

“Ask the Three Musketeers? I don’t know.” Mario answers, not even looking up, too busy fixing his hair in the mirror on the wall.

“André? Benni? Per??” None of them acknowledge him in the slightest, even though they are so fucking close Lukas could poke them in the ass with his sceptre. And he might as well just do that, since the trio keeps ignoring his attempts.

“Per I swear to the glorious ass of the God of Thunder, if you keep ignoring me I’ll tell the Gunners who replaced their shower gels with ketchup on the last day of training!”

Per turns right away, a look of disbelief on his face immediately replaced by one of pure smug, “Firstly _you_ executed, indeed, the vicious act. And secondly, my name is Aramis.”

“And mine is Athos,” says André, appearing from behind Per’s back.

“And mine is Porthos,” shouts Benni, doing the exact same thing from behind André’s back this time.

Lukas can’t contain the laugh that escapes him, “Aha! I love you guys!” he says, applauding their little show and pulling out his phone to snap a selfie.

“One for all, and all for one!” The three shout together, raising their fake swords.

“I’ll offer you another round of wine!”

“Wine for all, and all for wine!”

“I’m instagramming this, aha!”

//

“I am wondering if that furry brown thing is our captain Philipp Lahm, dressed as a grizzly bear. What are the evidences saying, my dear Mr. Holmes?” Erik is trying so hard not to laugh at the sight of Phil who’s literally disappearing in a costume obviously too big for his ‘elegant and classy’ limbs, and he thanks god he has a moustache covering half of his mouth.

Mats is having the same problem apparently, if the red on his cheeks and the watery eyes are something to go to. But he keeps his behaviour, “You are clearly missing out on important details, doctor. He is, indeed, our beloved Philipp Lahm, but he is not dressed as a grizzly bear, he is, as the little red bow around his neck suggests, a teddy bear, even though he looks more like a cute kitten. If I found kittens cute, that’s all.”

“If you two are here to take the piss, I am leaving. I knew this was a bad idea,” Philipp says, swallowing brown fur, as he watches horrified Mats and Erik reach out and scratch behind his bear-ears. “I am not a kitten.”

“Sure thing,” says Miro, appearing from nowhere – he is a vampire after all – just to scratch Phil’s ears, who’s getting redder by the second.

“I AM NOT A KITTEN.”

//

“Hey wizard of Oz!”

Mesut shakes the hook in Bastian’s face, “I am Captain James Hook, excuse you?”

“Oh, you should couple with Captain Jack Sparrow!” Bastian says, covering his mouth with both hands and giggling like an obviously drunk idiot.

Mesut looks at Bastian with an expression of disbelief, “We _are_ a couple?”

“You do put your hook in his ass, don’t you,” and Bastian is not just drunk, he is completely shitfaced and currently laughing like a maniac. Mesut is so done.

“What I do with my hook is exactly what _you_ do with your hammer,” Mesut retaliates, having none of Bastian’s drunk bullshit.

“Yeah but do you think Lokas— where are you going Mesook?”

//

“I AM NOT A BLOODY KITTEN!” Philipp shouts for the approximately 100th time since he made the stupid decision to show at this equally stupid party.

//

“Mario and Thomas have been in the toilet since forever. Are we sure they’re okay? Maybe one of them is sick?” Manuel asks, licking a spoonful of Nutella with an adoring expression and sparkling eyes, and he makes a face when everybody gapes at him like he is saying he found out just now that, say, Bayern and BVB can’t stand each other,  “What? Mario said he had to pee like two hours ago! He asked Thomas to go with him, it must be serious!”

“Manu, keep eating your Nutella, would you?” Kevin tells him, patting his back.

“I am worried. I am going to check on them—”

And every single person at the table shouts, “NO!”

“But I want to know if everything is alright!” he tells them, still oblivious.

And Shkodran does the only clever thing one could have done to save the day and to spare Manuel the sight of Cinderella getting fucked by Prince Charming. He steals Manuel’s little jar of Nutella and runs away.

“Come take it if you want it!”

“OH NO YOU DIDN’T”

//

“Sherlock! You’re clever, right? You’re the only one who can give me a honest answer.”

“I am the cleverest here, so yeah, shoot.”

“Do you think Lokas loves Brazil more than he loves me?” He hiccups through the whole question.

And as Mats starts speaking, a loud gasp comes from their left and they turn to see Lukas with his arms crossed but a fond look on his face, “How can I love Brazil more than a guy who has been wearing a winged hat just to humour me?”

“I don’t know, you can’t stop talking about it,” Bastian blushes and Mats is about ready to throw up the wine he has been sipping.

“Are you two kidding me? If Mario and Thomas are the horny teenagers and Mario and Marco definitely the angst teenagers, you two are totally the disgustingly-in-love ones!” Mats exclaims, faking vomit.

“That makes you and Erik the nerd ones,” Bastian looks at him with a smug expression and goes to high five his man.

“We’re not nerd. We’re just passionate about the things we love,” Erik comes to the rescue.

“No, you’re all just dumb.”

Mesut is _done_.

//                                                     

Miro looks around the room, watching his teammates dance to some Brazilian song Lukas knows all the words of. He’ll miss them, is the thing. He’ll miss parties like this one, he’ll miss playing with them, winning with them, even losing with them. He couldn’t really ask for better teammates and he knows he’s not the only one thinking it when he looks across the room and finds Philipp – he does look like a little kitten to be honest – with the expression he guesses he has on his own face.

He goes across the room, avoiding Marco who tries to pull him in for a dance, and sits next to Phil, smiling sadly at him. “Can you believe we will miss this?”

“It has been our life for a long time, it’s just fair. Sometimes I think about it and I’m no more sure I made the right decision.” His voice is trembling by the time he’s done.

They watch as Mesut is picked up in the air like a ballerina by Sami, while Lukas and Bastian catcalls Thomas and Mario on their way back from the “bathroom”. Benni, Per and Jerome are playing a game of cards (where did they even find them?) on the floor, while André is asleep on Kevin’s lap, who is talking with Julian. The rest of them are all dancing in dubious ways, while Marco, Erik and Mats take the piss out of Mario wearing a Borussia jersey. Everything is exactly as it should be.

“Do you know what I learned from this party?” Miro says, nodding at the guys in front of them.

“That we’re the best National Team in the whole world?” Phil answers, smiling.

“That and that German people should stick with beer, because wine turns us into idiots.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're laughing, I succeeded! I got the idea off a dream I made where Thomas was Cinderella and Mario his Prince Charming. I had fun writing this so I hope you had reading it! English is not my first language, so I apologize if you find it hard to read. As per usual, thanks to my Prinzessin who's always very supportive. Love y'all muffins.
> 
> (SUPERCUPGEWINNER!! #EchteLiebe) (Mario and Marco did the thing and I died)


End file.
